Saturday, February 17, 2018

Texts: Proverbs 3. Joyful is the person who finds wisdom, the one who gains
understanding. . . Wisdom is a tree of life to those who embrace her; happy are those
who hold her tightly.

Proverbs 6. Take a lesson from the ants, you lazybones. Learn from their ways and
become wise! 7 Though they have no prince or governor or ruler to
make them work, 8 they labor hard all summer, gathering food for the
winter. 9 But you, lazybones, how long will you sleep? When will you
wake up? 10 A little extra sleep, a little more slumber, a little
folding of the hands to rest-- 11 then poverty will pounce on you
like a bandit; scarcity will attack you like an armed robber.

Matthew 25:1-10.

On the evening of
May 12, 1862, three Confederate navy officers left their ship in the
care of their Black crew and went ashore for the night. It was an
entirely reasonable decision. The ship was docked in Charleston
harbor. A safe place surrounded by Confederate forts. They had been
sailing with this crew for some time. The head of the crew was Robert
Smalls, a skilled coastal pilot. They had no doubt about his ability
to manage the ship in their absence. Smalls and the rest of the crew
was a slave, a loyal servant.

The officers were
correct in their evaluation of Robert Smalls' abilities. They misread
his loyalty. His loyalty was not to the supposed masters but to his
family. Robert was married. He had two kids. He knew that at any
time, his family could be ripped apart, because that was the nature
of slavery. He had been dreaming of freedom for years—for himself,
his wife, and his children. Now, he had a ship in his hands and the
skill to use it.

It was bold and
dangerous. He would be taking the ship through lines of Confederate
warships. He would sail right under the guns of Forts Jackson and
Sumpter. If he was caught, the torture and abuse he and the rest of
crew would experience is beyond description here in church. But this
was his chance. The chance he had been preparing for for years.

At two in the
morning, he directed the crew to fire up the boiler, then they pulled
away from dock. They stopped at a wharf some distance down the river
and picked up Robert's wife and sons and several other escaping
slaves then headed toward the open water beyond Forts Jackson and
Sumpter. He knew the local waters like the back of his hand. From his
close cooperation with the captain of the ship he knew all the
signals and codes used to pass various check points. No one on shore
suspected anything until he was beyond the range of the forts' guns.
He hoisted a white flag and steamed straight toward the Union
blockade where he surrendered the ship. He and his family and the
others with them were given their freedom.

One night. One
chance. And Robert and his family were free.

Another story.
Apparently completely unrelated:

I was reading in
yesterday's Seattle Times about the men's Super-G, the super grand
slalom. Norwegians have dominated the event, winning the gold for the
last four Olympics. No one could touch them. In Pyeongchang, this
week, the sixteen year Norwegian streak was broken. An Austrian,
Matthias Mayer, won gold. He was followed in second place by Beat
Feuz, of Switzerland. Feuz was only 0.13 seconds behind Mayer. The
defending Norwegian champion, Kjetil Jansrud, came in third, 0.05
seconds behind Feuz.

I have a hard time
imagining what it would be like to spend four years training and
dreaming of winning gold and then to miss it by 0.13 seconds or to
miss winning the silver 0.05 seconds. Wow. The blink of an eye. A
single wobble of a ski. If we imagine life as a series of Olympic
events, most of us might as well sit down and not even try. For most
of us, no amount of training would ever bring us to the podium to
receive a gold medal in the Grand Slalom or figure skating or cross
country skiing or speed skating. Even for the most highly trained
athletes in the world, winning Olympic gold is a rare and elusive
thing.

But fortunately life
is not like the Olympics. Life seldom comes down to a single crucial
moment. We create our lives through our habits.

If you go skiing
regularly, push yourself a bit, hang out with people who are better
than you are, over time you will become a good skier, maybe even a
great skier. There are no short cuts. On the other hand, if you put
in the time and effort, most likely you will become skillful. You
will be ready for those days when there is fresh powder on the
slopes, the sky is sunny and the temperature is just a little below
freezing.

In our Old Testament
reading we were reminded of ants.

Take a lesson from the ants, you lazybones. Learn from their ways and
become wise! Though they have no prince or governor or ruler to make
them work, they labor hard all summer, gathering food for the winter.

Right now, as I'm
preaching, at my house, the ants are busy. For several days now,
they've been scurrying about on the window sill next to our kitchen
table. I'm impressed by their busyness. I hardly ever notice one just
sitting there. They're scurrying about, looking for food I presume.
(So I make sure there is nothing to tempt them on the table or
counters.)

Watching the ants
and reading the words of our Scripture, I'm reminded of this
congregation.

The people in this
congregation continually amaze me. They are busy. If they have kids,
their kids are involved in a dizzying array of activities. If they
are older they are taking care of their parents and their neighbors
and their friends or strangers.

At work, they are
making a difference. We are holy ants.

In the creation
story in Genesis Two, Adam is instructed to work the Garden and take
care of it. Work—shaping our environment, making the world a more
just, verdant, and peaceful place—this is God's plan for our lives.
This is the path to happiness. This is what it means to be holy.

The Sabbath
commandment, which forms a key portion of our identity as a
denomination, sets Sabbath-keeping in the context of work. Work six
days, and rest one. Many of us are workaholics. And we desperately
need the stern command of God: Stop working and rest. But it is also
true that the Sabbath commandment dignifies our labor. Sabbath is
holy leisure surrounded by holy work.

A couple of weeks
ago, I talked people with various disabilities who will never ever be
able to work. God has placed these precious people in our
congregation and in our society. They are worthy of the care required
to sustain their lives. Their well-being depends on our industry, our
energy, our work. Our work is dignified and ennobled by the presence
among us of these people who depend on us.

Today, I want to
honor the energy and skill and diligence of those who work. You make
life possible for these dependent ones. You make the world go round.

Recently I was in
conversation with a young pastor. He described with warm enthusiasm
his practice of beginning every sermon with two questions: What have
you done this week to make God love you more? What have you done this
week to make God love you less? After asking these questions, he
attempt to persuade his listeners that there was nothing they could
do to make God love them more or less.

I agreed with this
preacher that God's love is overflowing and that we do not earn it.
However, I also pointed out that his questions were misleading. They
suggested that behavior should be beneath the notice of Christians.
That celebrating good behavior is inappropriate in church. But even
the Apostle Paul, with his passionate and complicated theology
eventually comes back at the end of his letters to the down-to-earth
reality of good behavior. He reminds his readers that we are called
to love our neighbors as ourselves. He even goes so far as to insist
that if someone in the church community chooses not to work, they
should be barred from the communal meals.

Religion is about
God. Yes, of course. It is also very much about human well being,
about living well. The commandments, properly understood, describe
the way of life most conducive to human thriving. Jesus' ministry of
healing showed his concern for the ordinary, down-to-earth,
nitty-gritty realities of being human.

Since that was
Jesus' way, it is also our way as the Kingdom of Jesus. We care about
the quality of life experienced by those around us.

Which brings me back
to the story of Robert Smalls, the man who sailed the steamer out of
Charleston harbor to freedom. We can think of it as wonderful good
luck. Those officers left the ship for the evening and left Smalls on
board. How lucky! Or what a blessing from heaven! But it is important
to note that Smalls had been preparing for this moment for all his
life. He had become a skilled pilot. He knew the local waters, the
channels, the shoals. He knew the ship. He knew its boiler and all
its systems. He had learned all the signals and codes used by the
captain of the ship as he moved through the various coastal defenses
and check points.

Smalls was not
merely lucky. He was ready.

The rest of his
story demonstrates his fitness for this wonderful exploit. Like
anyone who wins Olympic gold, or silver or bronze, or even qualifies
to compete, he had prepared.

The Union Navy
immediately began relying on his skill and knowledge. Fairly quickly
he was promoted to captain in the US Navy and played an important
role in a number of naval battles. After the war he was elected to
the state assembly in South Carolina and then was elected to the U.
S. House of Representatives. Robert Smalls was an ant—busy and
industrious. Self-motivated. He saved his people once. He served his
people all his life. He is a model for us.

We do not know what
opportunities and crises lie in our future. But we can cultivate
habits that lead to holiness and happiness. We are not going go to
the Olympics. But all of us are engaged in something far more noble
and important than the Olympics. We are building lives. We are
partnering with God in service.

So let us encourage
one another in doing good. Let us spur one another toward wisdom and
diligence. Let's busy ourselves in the noble work of ending oppression and setting the captives free.

Friday, January 26, 2018

Sermon for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists for January 27, 2018

I noticed a bumper
sticker on the rear window of a minivan parked in the Chase Bank
parking lot in Ballard. What Would Jesus Do? Since Ballard is
not exactly a major center of Christian piety, the sticker got my
attention. (For my non-NW friends: Ballard is one of the most
atheistic neighborhood in the US.) I then noticed another sticker
right next to the What Would Jesus Do? sticker. This adjacent
sticker had been damaged and hard to read. I looked closely. It was
also a Jesus sticker. It read, “Jesus would drive in the RIGHT lane
except to pass.”

I laughed and
laughed. Only in Ballard—or Fremont—would I see a bumper sticker
citing Jesus in support of proper freeway driving technique. They
should have included one of the famous quotations by Jesus about
traffic management:

“Nathaniel 13, verse 8: Why you take you donkey to town, do not
take up the whole road. Leave room for your neighbor to pass.”

Bartholomew 4:6. “You hypocrites! You prohibit donkeys in the
temple out of regard for God, but tie your donkeys in narrow streets
making passage impossible for your neighbors. Fools, do you not know
that obstructing your neighbor who is made in God's image is the same
as obstructing God?”

Of course, I'm
making up these “quotations” from Jesus. Jesus never said
anything about traffic management in Jerusalem or in Seattle. Jesus
never said or did anything that would offer a distinctly “Christian”
approach to driving.

When we ask the
question, What would Jesus do?, very often there is no
specific example in the Gospel that provides a straightforward answer
to the question. Instead, Jesus becomes a stand-in for our highest
ideals. The name, Jesus, gets wrapped around our ideas of what
is noble and wise and compassionate. Jesus was wise, compassionate,
honest, good. When we ask What would Jesus do? We are asking what is
the wise, compassionate, honest, good thing to do. And our answer to
the question says more about us than it does about Jesus.

I faced this
hermeneutical challenge as I worked on this week's sermon.

I began with
pictures in my head. Quinn, Joel, Bryden, Orin, Alex, Cara, and Kara.
Each of these persons was born with special challenges. Each of them
has received intensive therapeutic intervention. And each requires
and will always require special help. We cannot fix these people. Not
if “fix” means getting them to a place where they will be able to
manage their own lives without special assistance.

These people are not
going to grow up and take care of their parents. They are not going
to earn enough money over the course of their lifetimes to pay for
their care. Some will never manage their own money. Some will never
speak. Some will never be able to change their own diapers. Not even
if they live to be sixty years old. They will not become “productive
members of society.” They will always be takers. Always.

With these people
filling my mind's eye, I asked the question: What would Jesus do?

When I took this
question to the Gospel I immediately ran into a problem. In the
Gospel, Jesus solved every physical, material problem he faced.
Paralyzed for 38 years—no problem. Jesus made the man's legs work.
Blind? No problem. Jesus cured the blindness. A son who had demonic
fits or seizures all his life? Not to worry. Jesus fixed it. Jesus
solved every physical, material problem he encountered. Miracles were
routine.

So when we looked at
my collage of images of friends with severe challenges and asked what
would Jesus do, the first part of the answer was easy: Jesus would
heal them, fix them, make life easy for them. Which gives us no help
at all. Because our friends cannot be fixed. Our friends have genetic
disorders, chromosomal abnormalities, severe learning disabilities,
and profound mental illness. And we cannot fix them. We cannot do
what Jesus did. We cannot do what Jesus would do.

Jesus healed people.
We are left to care for them. Jesus fixed problems. We manage
problems. This is our life as the people of God. This is our life as
the church of Jesus Christ. Jesus has placed among us people we
cannot fix.

I have friends who
attend the Bethel Church in Redding, California. This church
specializes in miraculous healings. My friends have witnessed
miracles. They experienced for themselves healing from incurable
conditions. I love their stories. I do not deny the occurrence of
miracles. But the town of Redding still has a hospital. And it is not
empty. Redding has assisted living facilities. And people are not
moving from assisted living back to independent living. Even in the
neighborhoods surrounding Bethel Church there are children with
severe disabilities. Even in the Bethel Congregation itself there are
families serving as caregivers.

When we consider our
children and friends and neighbors and parents who have special needs
and we ask what would Jesus do? The stories of healing in the Gospel
are not especially helpful. Because we cannot fix the people we know.

A few weeks ago, I
listened to a theologian who expressed great admiration for the
provision in the law of Moses regarding gleaning. According to the
law, if you had a grain field, at harvest time, you were obliged to
leave the corners unharvested. After you did your first gathering,
you were prohibited from going back over the field a second time to
make sure you had gathered every last stalk of grain. Instead, those
unharvested corners and missed stalks were to be left for poor people
who had no fields. Once you were finished with your harvest, they
could harvest those corners and gather any grain that had been
dropped in your harvesting process.

The theologian
applauded this approach, making a veiled political point, saying this
divine method of helping the poor meant no one got something for
nothing. The poor people experienced the dignity of work.

The theologian was
correct as far as he went. Those who can work, should work. But he
left out Quinn, Joel, Bryden, Orin, Alex, Cara, and Kara. If my
theologian friend ran the world, a lot of people would die because
they are unable to go out to the fields and gather. They are unable
to cook. They are unable to turn on the water faucet. They cannot
change their diapers, even at age 25.

Most of us have
heard the phrase, “Give people a hand up, not a hand out.”
Certainly, where we can, we should give a hand up.

One of the proudest
moments of my life came during a performance by a brilliant musician
who had been close friends with my sister back when we were kids.
This singer paused in her performance and publicly thanked me for
giving her a hand up. It happened during her freshman year in
college. She was floundering, academically and socially. Then she
attended a coaching group I led. She embraced a number of good
habits. She got her feet under her. Grades and social life improved.
She developed a solid spiritual life. And went on to a great career.
She credited her turnaround to that coaching group.

I love the story. I
gave a little help and it seems to have made a big difference.

But the story is
useless—maybe even worse than useless, maybe even cruel—if I tell
it in front of someone whose child will never speak or someone who is
in college only because of the special assistance provided to blind
students. My friend had the capacity to take care of herself, with
just a little bit of temporary support. She got “fixed.” That's
wonderful and completely irrelevant when we consider the needs of
Quinn, Joel, Bryden, Orin, Alex, Cara, and Kara.

A friend is visiting
us from Texas. He has a brother with schizophrenia. The brother began
attending a church. The church embraced him. They demonstrated
authentic “Christian” caring. They made him a part of their
church family. They helped him with rent occasionally. Helped him
find jobs. Took him on mission trips. For a number of years, this
church's embrace of Paul's brother was a perfect example of the power
of a loving church. They were a beautiful church. And life for Paul's
brother was better because of the care that church provided. Then the
brother went off his meds—meds he had been taking for years. He
quit all medication, completely and permanently. His mind went out of
control. He ended up hospitalized. People from the church—still
demonstrating the love of God—went to see him. But he sent them
away. He was hostile and fearful. He broke off all contact with the
church because voices in his head warned him they were aliens out to
get him.

They still loved
him. They could not fix him. Still they loved him. That's what the
church of Jesus does.

Late Friday night,
my friend Paul was asking me about today's sermon. I explained my
difficulty. I could not think of any problem Jesus could not fix. So
how did I get at the question, What would Jesus do, in the context of
people we cannot fix.

Then it came to me.

When Jesus was
hanging on the cross on that final Friday afternoon, he looked down
at the small group of friends who were gathered. In the group were
Jesus' mother, Mary, and his most intimate disciple, John.

When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple he loved standing there,
he said to his mother, "Woman, behold your son!" Then He
said to the disciple, "Behold your mother!" And from that
time, the disciple took her to his own home. John 19:26-27

The problem Jesus'
mother faced could not be fixed. She was a widow and soon to be
childless. And faced decades of life with no one and nothing. What
could Jesus do? What did Jesus do?

He asked his most
intimate disciple to take care of her. Till the end of her life.
Forever.

This is the picture
of God's will for us in the face of those we cannot fix. Let us care
for them. That's what Jesus would do.

Saturday, January 20, 2018

I
was sitting in the Top Pot donut shop in Ballard, writing. At a
nearby table three people were busy in conversation. Apparently they
were security supervisors for a large retail complex. The lead guy
was mapping out strategy and procedures for the other two people.

They
talked of helping people. I heard about some guy who got stuck in a
bathroom and security came to the rescue. Some other people got stuck
in an elevator. People needed help with this emergency or that. They
talked of how to make sure everyone who needed help got it in a
timely fashion.

Then
there was the other part of their work. Checking every stairwell top
to bottom every shift because people sometimes sneaked in and camped
there. And they had to watch for bad guys. They had to be aware when
someone was casing the place looking for an opportunity to steal.

Listening
in on their conversation reminded me of my own work with security.
For fifteen or sixteen years, I served as the head of the security
department at our annual Western Washington Adventist convention
called Campmeeting. We had thirty employees. When I got there, many
of the guys imagined themselves as policemen. They were eager find
and bust the bad guys. Too eager, in my opinion. So I set about
changing how we viewed ourselves. I told my employees that we were
not a police department, we were the Happy Department. Our job was to
make sure everyone on campus had a good time. Help little old ladies
move into their accommodations. Help mothers find their lost kids.
(We became really, really good at that.) Check bathrooms and make
sure they were servicable. And yes, in the evening, we had to enforce
the curfew and chase teenagers back to their tents.

Thinking
of ourselves as the Happy Department helped change the atmosphere of
the campus, a little. We had less and less “enforcement” work to
do over the years. There were fewer conflicts that we had to manage.

But
for all my talk about being the Happy Department, sometimes we had to
become enforcers. We had to stop the bad guys.

One
old guy had been coming for years. He created minor headaches, and
was surrounded by an aura of suspicion. We heard third and fourth
hand reports of him flirting with young girls. Then he proposed
marriage to a minor, a young woman who was willing to tell me her
story. We banned him from campus. Forever. Judgment day. And after
that the campus was a happier place.

Another
man raised my suspicions but I knew of no definite offense. I had not
even heard of any allegation of wrong-doing on his part. But I was
worried. Then a kid I knew told me something specific. I called the
police. There was an investigation and this man went to the big
house. Day of judgment. And then the campus was safer. Tragically,
the world was a better place because he was not in it. That is sad.
It is also true.

Sometimes
being the Happy Department required us to be tough with the bad guys.

I
love the language of our Old Testament reading this morning from
Psalm 96.

Some
of you spend time on the water. Sailing, cruising, kite-boarding,
kayaking. Have you ever been out on the water on a sunny day? The sky
is blue. Here and there pillows of cottony-white cumulus clouds are
floating in the blue. A slight breeze ruffles the water and keeps you
from getting hot. It's late afternoon. The sun sprinkles sparkles
across the tops of waves. At that moment the whole world seems just
right. The whole world is happy.

That's
the picture these scriptures paint.

More
relevant to the season. Imagine you are a skier—many of you don't
have to imagine. Imagine it's a Tuesday after a big snow. You have
the day off and head to the slopes. There's twelve inches of powder.
It's 28 degrees and sunny. No wind. Because it's a Tuesday, it's not
crowded. You own the slopes. You're in the middle of a run and pause
before resuming your flight. Sunlight is every where, a million
diamonds sparkle in every direction. Overhead, an intense blue sky.
It's quiet. A couple of jays swoop across the slope and land in the
tree beside Inside you. Off in the distance you hear a couple of kids
squealing and giggling as they dig themselves out after a fall.

Each
of these Psalms follows the same line. Mountains dance. Trees sing.
Rivers clap their hands. Waves shout hallelujah. The earth itself
under our feet skips with delight. Why?

Oliver
read the words for us:

because God is coming!

God is coming to judge the
earth.

God will judge the world with
justice.

Judgment
day. We can hardly wait. Finally, everything will be set right.
Hallelujah.

This
is not the whole story. There is another picture of judgment. We
heard it in our New Testament reading that Violet read for us.

Jesus called a little child to
him and put the child among them. Then he said, "I tell you the
truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little
children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven. So anyone
who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the
Kingdom of Heaven. "And anyone who welcomes a little child like
this on my behalf is welcoming me. But if you cause one of these
little ones who trusts in me to fall into sin, it would be better for
you to have a large millstone tied around your neck and be drowned in
the depths of the sea. "What sorrow awaits the world, because it
tempts people to sin. Temptations are inevitable, but what sorrow
awaits the person who does the tempting. So if your hand or foot
causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It's better to enter
eternal life with only one hand or one foot than to be thrown into
eternal fire with both of your hands and feet. And if your eye causes
you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It's better to enter
eternal life with only one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown
into the fire of hell. "Beware that you don't look down on any
of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels are
always in the presence of my heavenly Father. Matthew 18:2-10 New
Living Translation (Accessed through Blue Letter Bible.com.)

God
is watching. God takes special delight in little ones. We are most in
tune with God when we tend and care for the little ones.

God
is watching. God takes special umbrage when little ones are harmed.
You don't want to have God walk around the corner just after you have
called a child stupid. You don't want to run into God as you walk
away from a child in need. You touch a child—and it would be better
for you to have been hauled out into Elliot Bay and dropped overboard
with a pair of concrete boots on. God is watching. And the Bible
declares over and over that God is watching with the intent of
ultimately overruling the decisions of the powerful in favor of the
powerless. God will reverse the advantages conferred by wealth and
status and size and intelligence and beauty and nationality and
ethnicity.

Those
on the bottom will be lifted up. And those on top will find
themselves on the bottom.

Nearly
all of us here are among the privileged. Compared with other people
in the world we are privileged beyond calculation. We were born in
the right country to the right parents with sound minds and bodies
and opportunities to turn work and study into financial security. We
are blessed.

In
the judgment, God will ask how we used those privileges. God will ask
if we noticed those beneath us in the pecking order of the world.

Many
of read in the news this week of the horrific domestic abuse by David
and Louise Turpin. These parents turned into monsters to their own
children. The grandparents of the kids have reported that the
children memorized long passages of the Bible, some memorizing the
entire book. I'm afraid I know where this story is going to go. I'm
afraid we will learn these parents thought they were doing right.

Echoing
Jesus, I would say, it would have been better for David and Louise if
they had died of snake bite out in western Texas. Or heat stroke.

Yesterday
morning, Don and I were talking. He said, “Someone should have shot
those people.” Then he challenged me: You think God would be okay
with that?”

Inwardly,
I laughed. Don had me. I'm a pacificist, all around nice guy. I think
of the church as God's Happy Department. We want to make the world
better and save everyone in the process. We are called to serve the
world. Mostly that means smiling service.

But
sometimes, it means thundering opposition. Because we are the people
of God, we strongly oppose every act of oppression. We denounce evil,
especially the use of power to advantage the powerful, the use of
wealth to advantage the wealthy, the use of law to advantage the
mighty. Do not balance budgets on the backs of hungry children. Do
not preserve our comfortable lives at the expense of our
grandchildren. Do not harm children.

Instead,
let us join with God in cherishing and nourishing every little
one—both those who are literally little—children. And those with
fewer advantages, smaller privileges than ours.

As
we do this we will find ourselves cooperating with God. We are
preparing the world for the glorious day of judgment when the earth
and all that is in it will sing for joy. When the fields will dance,
when the ocean will sing and all the trees will clap their hands.

Friday, January 5, 2018

Sermon for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists for Sabbath, January 6, 2018

Texts: Deuteronomy 6:1-7, Luke 4:14-21

A week or so ago I
visited a construction sight owned by a friend. Around behind the
house, grubbing in the dirt, working to tunnel a drain pipe under an
existing sidewalk, was my friend's grandson. Home for the holidays
and hard at work.

When we think of
kids coming home for the holidays, it's natural to think first of
gatherings around the table or in the living room. But shared meals,
as rich as they are, are only part of what it means to be family.
Shared work is also part of the story.

And the more grown
up they are, the more we rely on them.

I remember years and
years ago, when there were challenges with the family computer, it
was “dad to the rescue.” That has now completely changed, of
course. In all things electronic, I go to my kids for help and
advice.

If I have trouble
with my phone, I consult my son. If I need to buy a computer, I just
find out what computer my daughter bought, and I buy the same one.

This movement from
dependent childhood to masterful maturity shows up in the story of
Jesus.

The Gospel begins
with the stories of Jesus' birth—the shepherds and wise men and
angels. The Gospel passes over the growing up. There is no teenage
Jesus in the Gospel. We make up stories of Jesus faithfully and
uneventfully working in his father's carpenter shop all through his
teen years. In the devotional telling of this story, there are never
any family arguments, not disagreement between Joseph and his
maturing, smart stepson Jesus. Maybe. My guess is that Jesus was a
little more normal than our legends imagine.

The Gospel skips
over all that and with one brief exception takes us straight to the
beginning of Jesus' ministry. Jesus' public works begins explosively.
Almost instantly he gathers large crowds with his preaching and
healing. After weeks or a few months, Jesus finally returns home to
Nazareth, the town where he had worked in the carpenter shop for
twenty years.

They invite him to
speak in the local synagogue. He accepts. He reads the day's
scripture reading.

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is upon me,

for the LORD has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted

and to proclaim that captives will be released

and prisoners will be freed.

He has sent me to tell those who mourn

that the time of the LORD’s favor has come. Isaiah 61:1-2.

The congregation
relishes these words. They imagined themselves to be the poor people
who would receive good news. They were the brokenhearted who would be
comforted. They were the captives who would be freed. They were the
recipients of divine favor.

What was there not
to like?

Then Jesus launched
into his sermon. Before he finished the audience became so furious,
they rushed him, grabbed him and dragged him out of town and were
going to shove him off a precipice.

Why did they get so
angry at Jesus?

Because he talked
just like the ancient prophets. He sounded like Amos and Isaiah and
Jeremiah. Jesus rejected the self-congratulation that lay at the
heart of their religion challenged them to see other people as the
poor and brokenhearted and captives.

The good people of
Nazareth were happy to claim Jesus as their native son as long as he
was doing good work in other towns. He was making them look good. But
they couldn't take it when he challenged them to make greater effort
in the direction of the ideals proclaimed by the prophets.

This story of Jesus
is replayed in every generation in the church. We are people of the
prophets, the people of Jesus. We are custodians of the words of the
Hebrew prophets”

But let justice pour down like a flood,

And righteousness like a mighty river. Amos 5:4

He will judge between many peoples and will settle disputes between
strong nations far and wide. They will beat their swords into
plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take
up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. Micah
4:3

This is what the LORD says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from
the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or
violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not
shed innocent blood in this place. Jeremiah 22:3

Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that
hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute
you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven:
for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and
sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. Matthew 5:44-45

We do the best we
can to live out these high ideals. We aim to do right. We build our
lives, make the necessary compromises to get along in the world. We
become comfortable with our way of life. Then our kids become
teenagers and young adults. They read these ancient words and they
come back to challenge us. They demand that we do better.

I plead with you who
are young among us: keep your ideals alive. Speak out loud your
highest, purest moral convictions. Unsettle us with your
uncompromising vision. My prayer for us who are older, for us who
have settled into the best routines we could manage as we balanced
the demands of ordinary life and the call of the Gospel—my prayer
for us is that we will be more receptive to our children than were
the residents of Nazareth. We will not be able to live out fully the
highest ideals of our children. (They will not either, but let's not
tell them that. Let's allow them to discover this on their own.) We
may not be able to achieve all that our kids dream of, but I pray
that we will encourage their vision and do all that we can to bend
toward their ideals. How can we do less as the church of Jesus
Christ?

This fall, a group
of people from Green Lake Church, heard the call to mission, the call
to use the gifts God had given them to do something good in a far
away place. I've asked Brian McGrath to share with us some of their
experience.

Friday, December 22, 2017

Sermon for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists for Sabbath, December 23, 2017

A
week or so ago I stepped into the Urban Bakery, a coffee shop at the
corner of Green Lake Way North and Wallingford Ave on the north side
of the lake. It was early. The streets were pretty deserted. The cafe
was empty except for two other old guys. While I was waiting on my
sandwich, I eavesdropped on their conversation. As is common these
days, their talk focused on their worries about national affairs. At
one point, one of the old guys said, “I'm not worried about myself.
I've had a great life and I'm pretty well situated. It's my grandkids
and the world they will inherit. That's what I'm worried about.”

At
some point, as we mature, our ambitions and even our desires change.
We turn from fascination with our own successes, our own triumphs, to
the triumphs and successes or our children and grandchildren. Our
highest ambition is to see the well-being of our grandchildren.

We
endow scholarships and chairs at universities. For the kids.

We
fight for the preservation of public land so succeeding generations
can taste some of the wildness and beauty that nourished our own
souls.

We
fund programs that help disadvantaged children because we hope that
hidden somewhere among those anonymous faces is the genius who will
cure some incurable disease, the composer who will write the music
that thrill audiences for ten generations.

Full
human maturity comes when our own lives are nearly forgotten in our
ambition and longing and joy in the children yet to come.

This
happy ambition for the next generation is expressed throughout the
Bible story and reaches its climax in the Christmas story.

The
prophet promised:

Unto
us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government shall
be upon his shoulders.

His
name will be Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting
Father, The Prince of Peace.

Of
the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end.

The
fruit of his reign will be everlasting justice. (Isaiah 9:6-7)

The
Gospel says:

Shepherds
were out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
Suddenly the angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of
the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. The angel
said, "Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of
great joy for all people. Today, in the city of David, a Savior is
born, Christ the Lord. And this will be your sign: You will find a
baby wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger." Then vast
choir of angels appeared, praising God and singing, "Glory to
God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!"
(Luke 2:8-14)

The
prophet promised:

The
Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, a virgin will conceive and
bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel. (Isaiah 7:14)

The
Gospel says:

An
angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream, saying, "Joseph,
son of David, do not be afraid to take to you Mary your wife, for the
child in her womb is conceived of the Holy Spirit. She will bring
forth a Son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save His
people from their sins." Thus was fulfilled the word of the
prophet, “The virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they
shall call His name Immanuel," which is means, "God with
us." Matthew 1:20-24

A
prophet said:

A
Star shall come out of Jacob;

A
Scepter shall rise out of Israel, (Numbers 24:17)

The
Gospel says:

After
Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king,
behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where
is the newborn King of the Jews? We saw his star in the East and have
come to worship him." When these Wise Men finally found their
way, they entered the house and when they saw the child with his
mother, Mary, they fell down and worshiped Him. They had opened their
treasures and present to him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
(Matthew 2)

One
of the notable women in the Old Testament was named Hannah. She was a
beloved wife and was childless. In response to her prayer and the
blessing of the high priest, she became pregnant and gave birth to
Samuel, one of the greatest of prophets. In celebration, she offered
this pray/song. She sees the impact her son will have on his world
and celebrates it as if it were already accomplished.

Do
not act with pride and haughtiness.

Do
not speak in arrogance!

For
the LORD is a God who knows what you have done;

he
has judged your actions. (In the birth of this miracle child)

The
bow of the mighty will be broken,

those
who stumble will be strengthened (because of the birth of this
miracle child)

Those
who were well fed are now starving,

those
who were starving are now full.

The
childless woman now has seven children,

and
the woman with many children wastes away.

The
LORD gives both death and life;

he
brings some down to the grave but raises others up.

The
LORD makes some poor and some rich.

He
brings some down and lifts others up.

He
lifts the poor from the dust and the needy from the garbage dump.

He
sets them among princes, placing them in seats of honor.

For
all the earth is the LORD's, and he sets the world in order. …

Those
who fight against the LORD will be shattered.

He
thunders against them from heaven;

the
LORD judges throughout the earth.

He
gives power to his king;

he
increases the strength of his anointed one." 1 Samuel 2

Then
Mary is visited by an angel and told she, too, will have a miracle
child. She echoes the words of Hannah in her prayer/song.

"Oh,
how my soul praises the Lord. 47

How
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior! 48

For
he took notice of his lowly servant girl,

and
from now on all generations will call me blessed.

For
the Mighty One is holy, and he has done great things for me.

He
shows mercy from generation to generation to all who fear him. 51

His
mighty arm has done tremendous things!

He
has scattered the proud and haughty ones.

He
has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble.
53

He
has filled the hungry with good things

and
sent the rich empty away. Luke 1

Now,
I will light the final candle of this Advent season, the Christ
candle, the light expressing our conviction that the baby born in a
barn and cradled in a feed box was the embodiement of the fullness of
God. And we pledge ourselves to see in every infant the embodiment of
heaven's promise and its care our highest duty.

Friday, December 15, 2017

Sermon for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists
for December, 16, 2017

Texts: Psalm 16:5-11, Luke 2:1-10

A
couple of weeks ago I headed into the bedroom. It was probably 10:30.
I was beat. I was thinking only of sleep. Karin was already in bed,
reading her Bible. I dropped my head on the pillow, closed my eyes
and headed off to oblivion.

A
couple of minutes pass. I'm almost asleep. But Karin interrupts. “Why
do you think God chose the shepherds for the angels to visit?” I
tired ignoring her, but it didn't work. She was wide awake with
excitement about the story of angel choirs and shepherds.

Shepherds
lived at the bottom of the social pyramid of the time. They were at
the bottom of the social ladder. Nobodies. Angels interrupted their
night. Gleaming, dazzling angels. Singing Joy to the World. How cool
was that? How wonderful?

Karin
couldn't sleep thinking of the wonder of that fantastic encounter.
And she wouldn't let me sleep because the magic of the story was too
rich to be enjoyed alone. So she peppered me with hypothetical
questions—why did God do that? What did I think the shepherds
thought? What kind of faith did the shepherds have? What did I think
of the shepherds? Why did God choose these guys to receive this
heavenly favor?

I
grunted one-syllable answers to her theological ponderings. Trying to
give her a hint. Finally, I promised I would check on the shepherds
in the morning, but for now, I insisted, I was going to sleep.

The
next morning I did check in on the shepherds. In the freshness of
dawn I pondered the message of this sweet, beautiful story.

That
night there were shepherds staying in the fields nearby, guarding
their flocks of sheep. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared among
them, and the radiance of the Lord's glory surrounded them. They were
terrified, but the angel reassured them. "Don't be afraid!"
he said. "I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all
people. Luke 2:8-10 NLT (Accessed through Blue Letter Bible.com)

After
a few more words of explanation, this single angel was joined by a
vast choir singing,

"Glory
to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those with whom God is
pleased." Luke 2:14

When
God steps into our world, it is good news, it is an occasion of joy.

A
little later in this same passage in the Gospel of Luke, we read that
Mary and Joseph went to the temple in Jerusalem to dedicate Jesus
when he was six weeks old. While they were there, two old people came
up to them. One was Anna, a very old widow.

She
had been told about this baby in a vision. She came into the temple
and headed straight for the Holy Family. I imagine her taking the
baby in her arms and cooing and ahhing over this beautiful baby,
checking out his tiny fingers, examining his cheeks and nose and
lips, stroking his forehead.

She
was in an ecstasy of joy. Finally, reluctantly, she returns the baby
to Mary and shuffles out of the temple to spread the news. He has
arrived. The Messiah has been born. Our thousand-year-old hopes are
turning into concrete reality. It's happening!

We
can see the sparkle in her eyes, we can hear the excitement in her
voice.

The
Jesus story is happy story. The Jesus mission is the creation of joy.
The story of the birth is tidings of great joy. And this is our
foundational story. We are people of the happy story.

One
test of the authenticity of our Christianity is the presence of joy.
Does our faith make us happy? Does our faith help us make others
happy? Righteousness leads to joy.

In
the ancient story of Job, Job complained that he had been treated
unjustly by God. He suffered disaster and catastrophe that were
completely undeserved, in fact, Job protested, they were the opposite
of what he deserved. At one point in his complaint, Job lists the
marks of his righteousness. One of the definitive marks of his
righteousness is this:

I
assisted the poor in their need

and
the orphans who required help.

I
helped those without hope, and they blessed me.

And
I caused the widows’ hearts to sing for joy.

Job
29:12-13

What
does it mean to be righteous? To create joy in the lives of others,
especially the poor and needy. This is the authentic Christian
connection of the gift-giving at Christmas time. The point of the
gifts to create joy in the lives of others. And naturally when we
work joy in the lives of others, it has a reflex effect on us.

Wednesday
night I was sitting at the kitchen table doing my year-end giving. I
was going through my list of favorite charities, sending fifty
dollars here, a hundred there. In the great scheme of things my few
dollars will not do much, but it was a great joy to sit at my
computer and spread the joy. I imagined my dollars doing a little
something to make the world better, to ease the challenges of a widow
in Bangladesh or a student in India. I imagined my dollars helping to
protect some of my favorite wild places. Giving made me happy.

Terri
has helped us as a congregation connect with some special families at
Greenwood Elementary School which is located just two and a half
miles from where we sit. Most of these families are immigrants,
people who have landed here among us fleeing unimaginable danger or
crushing poverty. Life where they used to live was so bad that a life
of poverty and hard work in Seattle was worth going half the world
away from home.

Many
of us have given money to help ensure the children of these families
have enough to eat during the holidays. Your dollars will create joy
among those who receive them. Your giving has already created joy in
your own hearts. That's how we are made. When we water the souls of
others our own souls are watered.

Joy
to world. Joy to you. Joy to them. This is the religion of the baby
Jesus. This is our religion.

Some
years, when my girls are home, they go on a baking spree. The kitchen
is turned into a factory of joy. They make batch after batch of
cookies and bars and other confections. They discuss the various
neighbors they are baking for. The Poiriers, the Popkes, Peggy,
Louise, Jim and Connie, MaryAnn and Don. Who is allergic to nuts? Who
likes blackberries.

They
are not merely making cookies, they are manufacturing joy. Their own
joy in giving. The joy of others in receiving. This whole business of
giving and receiving takes us to the heart of the Gospel. This is the
central meaning of the Christmas story.

God
in Christ gave us heaven's best. In the giving God tasted
unfathomable joy.

Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and
daughters?

Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?

This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you

Mary did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand?

Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?

And when you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God

Mary did you know,

Mary did you know, Mary did you know

The blind will see, the deaf will hear and the dead will live again

The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day rule the nations?

Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?

This sleeping child you're holding is the great I am

Mary did you know, Mary did you know, Mary did you know

By Mark Lowry, music by Buddy Greene.

The Christmas story
is a fantastic fusion of ordinary and extraordinary, of pedestrian
and sublime. It is the literary equivalent of jalapena chocolate
covered caramels or a sweet-and-sour curry. A curious combination of
opposites.

Reading through the
grand visions of the Hebrew prophets, we are primed to expect the
birth of a king. And we think we know what a royal birth looks like?

Instead when the
actual birth happens it is a peasant birth. A working class couple
making do in a difficult situation. The baby has feed box for a
bassinet, a stable for a nursery, cows and horses for attendants.

For two thousand
years Christians have practiced giving our attention to this glorious
confusion. This little person who nurses and sleeps and cries and
poops and pees is, in fact, the incarnation, the embodiment of God.

Mary, did you know
that when you kiss you little baby you have kissed the face of God?

The question itself
highlights how preposterous the claim is. Every mother looks at her
baby and knows that this child is a magnificent addition to the grand
history of humanity. This little one is destined for greatness. But
Mary, your son will be greater than all other sons, greater than even
a mother's heart can imagine. When you kiss your baby you are kissing
the face of God. Mary can you know that? Is it possible for even a
mother's heart to hold this truth?

A baby. A regular,
ordinary little human being. This child is the fulfillment of the
visions of Isaiah and Zechariah and Daniel. This child is the
ultimate embodiment of the hope and values that served as foundations
of the Jewish temple service and monarchy.

As wonderful as this
story is, it is not the first time the Bible features the birth of a
child as a grand forward move by the kingdom of heaven.

The story of Ruth
and Boaz is one the great romances of all time. In the first chapter
of the story we are confronted with the utter blighting of Ruth's
life. A Jewish family moved to the nation of Moab because life was
unsustainable in Israel—Dad and mom and their two sons. Elimelech,
Naomi, Mahlon and Chilion. In their new country they settled down.
Life goes well. Elimelech's business prospers. But the good times
were interrupted. Naomi's husband, Elimelech, died. But her sons,
Mahlon and Chilion took after their father. They were industrious and
smart. The family acquires a enough wealth to support a marriage. And
both sons marry. Happily.

Then the sons die.
Leaving Naomi widowed and childless—the most vulnerable, precarious
possible situation a woman in that society could find herself in.

Naomi decided to
head home. She sent her daughters-in-law back to their families and
she made plans to go back to the land of her brothers and cousins
hoping to find some corner that will allow her to live out her days
of grief. But Ruth refused to abandon her mother-in-law. So the two
women traveled back to Israel together.

There in that
foreign country, the homeland of her mother-in-law, Ruth goes to work
to provide for herself and her mother-in-law.

She was noticed a
good man who also happened to be wealthy. Romance blossomed. There
was a wedding.

To wrap up the
story, instead of writing, “They lived happily ever after,” the
ancient writer reported, “Ruth had a son.” At news of the birth
the neighbor ladies crowded into the house. As grandmother Naomi
cuddled her grandson against her bosom, these neighbor ladies
exclaimed, “Naomi has a son again!”

The writer goes on
to point out that this child of the foreigner Ruth, this grandson of
Naomi, proves to be the grandfather of the famous King David. This
half-breed child is the ancestor of the most iconic persons in all
Jewish history.

Who is this baby?
The son of a Moabite woman who according to Jewish law was excluded
from Jewish citizenship for ten generations. Who is this child? The
grandfather of King David, the George Washington or Dwight Eisenhower
of the Jewish people.

The story of Jesus
brings together similar contrasts. Another favorite song asks, “What
child is this who laid to rest is sleeping?” Who is this baby?

The Hebrew prophets
cast two dueling visions of the advancement of the Kingdom of Heaven.

In Daniel Chapter
Two, the kingdom of heaven is imagined as a giant stone that flies
inthrough the atmosphere and obliterates all opposition and
resistance. The rock grows into a world-dominating mountain. It is a
picture of irresistible, overwhelming force. It's a seductive vision.
Wouldn't that be nice? We imagine God showing up and smashing all the
bad people, while we stand us off to the side cheering him on.

In this vision, we
could imagine God as a heavenly bulldozer driver, pushing aside all
obstacles and opposition.

Then we read the
words of Isaiah 9.

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will
rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His government and
its peace will never end. He will rule with fairness and justice from
the throne of his ancestor David for all eternity. The passionate
commitment of the LORD of Heaven's Armies will make this happen!
Isaiah 9:6-7 NLT

God works through a
king. And before the king takes the throne and leads his armies he is
first a child. An infant facing the risks of whooping cough and
measles. Back then before vaccines small pox and polio stalked the
land snatched children from their mother's arms.

In this vision God
is a mother nourishing her child, a nanny fostering the success of
her young charges. We imagine God anxious and worried as he watches
the death-defying antics of his son--climbing trees and throwing
rocks at hornet nests. Leaping on the back of a wild horse just to
see if he can hang on longer than his friends. We imagine all the
ways the son's future can be ruined through physical, social , and
spiritual mistakes.

In this vision, the
kingdom of heaven comes through hope, a desperate, hungry hope.

God is no bulldozer
driver. Instead we picture God as a coach, a math teacher, a dance
instructor using every possible method to motivate and inspire her
students. In this vision, God's hunger for the triumph of goodness is
no less than it is in the vision of God the bulldozer driver plowing
over the bastions of evil. But in this vision, God knows the longing
and hunger of every parent to see the triumph, the success of their
children and grandchildren.

When we live with
this vision we slowly come to see children—all children, the ones
who go to bed in feed boxes and the ones cocooned in the swankiest
nurseries on Mercer Island, the children who already at eighteen
months give evidence of precocious intelligence or musical gifts or
unusual sweetness and the children who give evidence of disabilities
and troubles—when we receive the Christmas vision deep into our
souls children are transformed—all children. They are all ours. And
we hunger for their triumph and with great satisfaction we do all we
can to encourage that triumph.

In Matthew 2 we read
of the Persian nobility who traveled a thousand miles to pay homage
to the newborn king. All of the Jerusalem was oblivious, but these
foreigners, they were open to the heavenly secrets and they came to
worship.

And for two thousand
years we have repeated their worship. Metaphorically, we have brought
our gifts to lay at the feet of the Christ child and we take great
delight in our giving.

But there is yet a
more direct path to the Christ child, a path drawn on the map by
Jesus himself.

Jesus' disciples asked, "Who is greatest in the Kingdom of
Heaven?" Jesus called a little child to him and stood the child
in their center and said, “Anyone who becomes as humble as this
little child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Then Jesus added
this:

Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf is
welcoming me.

(Matthew 18:1-6)

May God grant us the
ability to see with heaven's eyes, to see every child as the
incarnation of Jesus. May we know that when we kiss the face of our
babies we are kissing the face of God.

God grant us the
courage and drive to ensure that every child is kissed with food and
shelter, clean air and open spaces. May our vision of holiness
include doing all that we can for all the little Jesuses God has
placed in our care.